Fire Trees

Yugao

Summary: They didn't believe it when people told them that if they played with fire, they'd get burned.

Author's Note: While I was supposed to be reading a book for a literary analysis paper, I went on a SasuIno romp and decided my next three fics absolutely have to be about them (though whether I can keep that promise is still… questionable). Hahaha. Thanks go to my blockmate for asking what the fire trees were, ultimately the source of this entire plotbunny; and to Boys Like Girls, who played at the local mall last night and had me high for the past day since then.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Naruto or Boys Like Girls.

I can't deny your eyes.

"It's bleeding."

He had said it quietly, hardly even loud enough to give her the idea that he was talking to her instead of to himself. He probably didn't even know she was standing there, just a short distance from where he was, with her sea-green eyes that were, for a moment, on the bright red blossoms, now on him. She had never thought of the tree as bleeding before; true, the flowers were crimson, in stark contrast to the dull gray-green leaves as if they were bleeding, as if the blood oozed out from each invisible wound in the tree, before it fell down to earth.

But the idea of the flowers burning, well – it was a lot more appropriate. And the mental image was prettier, which was so much more appealing than the thought of blood and death and gore. And wasn't it just sooo pretty when the flowers fell to the ground one by one like a shimmering red-orange rain? The tree burned; it didn't bleed. And being Ino, even as the six-year-old she was at the time, she had to tell him exactly what she thought.

"No, it's burning," she said with a grin, though her voice was not as loud as it usually was, especially when she was around Sakura. She had only seen this boy once before, when Sakura had pointed him out to her and announced him to be the famous Sasuke-kun, the love of her life and things like that. She had not seen what was so special about him. He seemed like any other boy to her (and, through the perpetual wisdom of six-year-olds, we very well know that boys have cooties); there was nothing special about him. Though he looked nicer than most other boys she knew. But she wasn't going to say that, no. Not now, not ever.

He turned around, only slightly, just so he could see who spoke to him and enough so that she could see his dark, dark eyes and she could feel the breath catch in her throat – she didn't have to think for another moment to know why Sakura (oh silly, silly Sakura) had decided, at the peak of her childhood, that he was going to be the one. She didn't have to think for another moment, either, to know why her own heart (oh silly, silly Ino) was palpitating too fast for comfort.

"What tree is this?" he asked, a small, indiscernible smile on his face. A smile that would've melted anything, even (and perhaps, especially) her 'I'm a tough little girl' defenses. She had no idea why he expected her to know, or why he even expected her to talk to a (kami forbid!) stranger. But whatever he expected was right.

She couldn't deny his eyes.

"It's a fire tree," she said, her voice still the same, quiet one it wasn't used to being (but around him it felt right). As if the mere mention of the trees proved her point, she put both hands on her hips and smiled triumphantly, saying, "It burns."

He laughed and shook his head. "It's bleeding. You'll see."

And maybe she will.

It was dangerous, what they were doing.

For a long time neither of them would admit that they were actually doing anything. After all, they had met when they were six and it was hardly easy to think that at twice that age they'd be able to think romantically of each other. They were only twelve as yet, and there was nothing serious about anything. Nothing serious about the way she hugged him all too suddenly from behind, calling him hers and only hers (forever and ever and ever). Nothing serious about the way he tolerated her doing all this, on occasion even smiling (though no one ever noticed).

No, nothing serious at all.

On her part it was a crush. A girlish, childish crush that had begun the moment she met him and one that promised to go on for a long time. It was normal, people said, for her to start liking someone at this age. It was a crush. Puppy love. That was all it was. And who better to have as your childhood crush than one of the most crushed-on boys in the village? All the better, even, because you were excused from giving any other reason for your crush than, "He's Uchiha Sasuke."

On his part it was something else entirely. He couldn't very aptly call it a crush, since he felt nothing specific for her. His tummy didn't do backflips around her like people told him it should if it were a crush. So he'd ruled that out early, early on. But when she was around he could hear himself think (which was perhaps slightly ironic considering she was one of the few whose loudness was at least on par with Naruto's); he felt calmer, saner, when she was around. It wasn't as simple as a crush, nor was it as complex as love. She was a necessity, and that was all. (Though, running this statement through his mind he had to ask what he had meant by it. Was his needing her not the most that he could do?)

It was dangerous, what they were doing.

If they played with fire, they'd get burned. Someday. Maybe someday soon.

She pleaded with him not to go.

People thought she hadn't because she seemed so indifferent about it the next day, but she was there that night when he left; she had been following her best friend because the candy-haired ninja had left something with her and she had wanted to catch up to her before she went home, instead finding the whole scene play out in front of her tourmaline eyes. She panicked when she saw her friend fall to the ground, unconscious, and without thinking she ran to him, ran to him with her eyes wet with tears and her voice racked with questions wanting to be answered.

"How could you do this to Sakura!" she sobbed as she tugged at his shirt, as if begging him without words not to go. "How could you do this to Naruto. To the Hokage. To Konoha." To me. But she dared not say the words. She had never thought she was important enough to him to merit saying such a thing or to even believe it. But Sakura and Naruto were his teammates, the Hokage and Konoha the very things he should have been loyal to. If she could get him to stay it would be because of them, not because of her.

She didn't think she mattered to him.

"And what about you?" he asked what she was unable to say, or even think.

She let go of him, if only because she was a little startled by the question. "I don't matter. But your team matters. Your village matters. Stay. Please," her words were surprisingly mature for someone so young, someone so often immature. But sadness and urgency mixed together can change people.

He smirked. "If you don't matter, then what does?"

The next morning when she awoke beside Sakura in the hospital she could not remember whether he had really said that or whether she had imagined all of it. All she could think of was the previous night and the feeling of her heart being ripped wide open, stinging with each painful bleed.

"It's bleeding."

He had said it quietly, as he had so many years before that she was surprised he had remembered it. She knew, this time, that he had seen her first, because she had been sitting underneath the tree from their childhood when he approached. She looked up at the deep red-orange early spring blooms that had begun to grow on branch after branch. She had never thought of the tree as bleeding before, though he had mentioned it that one time… how many years ago? Was it nine? Was it ten? Was it important?

But the idea of the flowers burning, it was so much more appropriate. She sat there a short distance away from the boy she had used to think she loved.

From the boy she thought she loved.

From the boy she loved.

From the boy she loves.

(She realized she still couldn't deny his eyes.)

… And all she could feel was the burn. She felt it in her fingertips, in the eyes that refused to well up with tears as on the day he left, in the lips that quivered as if unsure what to say. She knew why he had come back, and she knew that things were going to change. The world as she knew it was coming to an end. Either Konoha survived, or he did.

She didn't know which outcome would bring her more grief.

"No, it's burning," she answered, her voice hoarse from choking back the urge to scream at him, to call the Hokage, to do something, anything but sit there helpless. But she found that it burned, it stung too much for her to even move. Memories could hurt just as much as jutsu could, she knew that now.

"What tree is this?"

"It's a fire tree. It burns," like I do. Like this does.

"It's bleeding. You'll see."

Author's Note: Oh damn. That wasn't even a very good attempt at SasuIno now was it? I'm pretty sure that didn't make as much sense as I would have preferred. I'm sorry. Haha. But I was on a SasuIno high for a couple hours and needed to get one out of my system before I turned in. So tell me what you think?